


when i was your man

by japanrry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Canon Compliant, Character Death, Crying, Depressed Harry, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, Heavy Angst, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Soft Harry Styles, Suicide, Suicide Notes, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Sexual Tension, also eleanor and louis are together until their canon breakup so if that bothers you, it's not really that big of a deal but just a warning, sorry lol, this is funny sometimes i like to think
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:07:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29844012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/japanrry/pseuds/japanrry
Summary: Dear Harry,I’ve spent so long trying to figure out how to write to you. I’m not really good with the big fancy words and elegance and all, so I’m sorry if this is quite shit. I’m sorry for it all, actually.harry styles is dead and louis tomlinson is convinced it’s his fault(title from and story inspired by ‘when i was your man’ by bruno mars)
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Kudos: 8





	1. one.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm so nervous ahhhhh but here it is! the longest thing i've ever written in my life!
> 
> i'd just like to say that this is as canon-compliant as possible, but i apologize for any mistakes that may be made regarding the timeline and flow of things. also, many instances throughout the story are completely made up by me and just my interpretation. reminder that all of this is just fiction!
> 
> this fic is completely written, so you don't have to worry about it being left unfinished! the chapters range from 2k-6k words, so i'll try to update once a week with the longer chapters and twice a week when there's a shorter chapter. it's edited, but any mistakes are my own so please don't hesitate to let me know if there's a grammar mistake or inconsistency! all comments are welcome and highly appreciated <3
> 
> **finally and most importantly**  
> this story talks explicitly about suicide, mental health (specifically depression), and includes a scene with a suicide note. please be aware if those are triggers for you!!! reminder that your mental health and wellbeing are so important and you are so loved! i'm very proud of you and if you ever need someone to talk to or just need some support, message me on tumblr! i'm japansrry <3
> 
> here's a [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7nIgJxgblHtrYXUUY9jhJw?si=c8fb9125c7ca4571) of songs i listened to while writing!
> 
> without further ado, enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _same bed but it feels just a little bit bigger now_

**december 15, 2015**

This is a pain Louis is sure he’s never felt in his life. No broken bones, emergency appendix surgeries, or even months away from his family could compare to this. It’s sitting in bed, doing everything he can just to _forget_ , to not think about it, but his brain is hellbent on punishing him for his sins. 

No amount of alcohol is getting him out of this one. 

Ironic, considering alcohol is what got him in it in the first place. 

Even in his drunken stupor, Louis is unable to rid himself of the overpowering feeling that inundates all his other senses. He’s drowning in it, thrashing helplessly as his pleading for help goes unnoticed. As the liquid permeates his lungs, he prays the alcohol will offer him reprieve from the burning that comes with a lack of oxygen. 

It does, but only one breath of musty air before it comes back in full force, incapacitating him completely. He cannot do anything other than letting the feeling wash over him until it ultimately kills him. He begs Death to just take him, claim him as one of his own, but his prayers go unheard.

Drowning, Drowning, Drowning.

This feeling, it’s not sadness. The sadness is undoubtedly there, but it doesn’t eat at him the same way the other does. No, the other feeling is unbearable, untamed, unwavering in the face of the intoxicating properties of whatever alcoholic concoction Louis’ inebriated mind decides fit. 

Guilt.

The guilt is a menace. 

“Louis, mate,” someone says softly. “You gotta get up, man, c’mon.”

_“Lou, we gotta get up, come on!”_

“Go away,” he grumbles, burrowing further beneath his covers.

It’s silent for a while, and Louis hopes for once his request is granted, but alas, the world is not kind to him. The bed dips to his right, and Louis’ heart catches in his throat. A rush of anger courses through his veins so suddenly that it, for once, overpowers the abundance of guilt that has taken up camp in his body. Despite his tiredness, he shoots up from below the duvet.

Liam sits in the spot with a bemused expression that quickly morphs into fear at the sight of Louis’ own countenance. He fixes the younger man with a glare that could kill, if possible. It’s a look of hate Louis usually reserves for the paps, Modest! employees, and Nicholas Peter Andrew Grimshaw, and Liam is lucky to have never had the misfortune of experiencing it before today.

“Get out of his spot,” Louis growls, voice lacking the ever-present tremble that has now become customary for the first time in nearly a month.

The man jumps up from his place on the bed in seconds, hands thrown up as a sign of surrender. Satisfied, Louis returns to his burrow beneath the pink duvet, doing everything he can to inhale the lingering scent of vanilla with a hint of floral notes. It smells of Spring, happiness, and contentment. Louis is always drowning, but he’d willingly go down in this fragrance. 

_“Pink is the color of Rock n Roll, you know!”_

_Whatever you say, Curly_ , Louis remembers telling the boy with a fond chuckle and a roll of his eyes. 

Sure, he was never really a pink kind of guy, but anything for him. Louis was a slave to those dimples, those bright green eyes. They cast a spell on him, leaving him catering to their every whim. Those gorgeous, glowing eyes. It pains him to think that despite their power over him, despite how many times a day he just got lost swimming in those beautiful rings of emerald, he never noticed as the light steadily drained from them. 

Louis startles when a hand gently places itself on his shoulder from above the covers. He doesn’t want to leave the escape he’s created for himself in their bed. His clothes barely smell like him anymore, neither do his towels and excessive collection of headscarves. All Louis has left is the goddamn pink duvet that he can’t believe he’d ever been embarrassed by. Just another addition to his long list of regrets and mistakes.

“Tommo,” Liam tries again. “Come on, me and the lads made breakfast. Full English, the whole nine yards. Better hurry now before Niall eats it all. He gave me a three-minute time limit, and it’s already been seven. We’ll be lucky if there’s even any toast left.”

He wants to laugh, but he just can’t. Louis can’t imagine any joy, any laughter, in a world without _him_. Still, he owes it to his boys to get up and eat with them. They went through all the effort to make him food despite being even worse cooks than himself, and he appreciates the action so much he could cry if there were still any tears left. Louis often needs to remind himself that this is hard on Liam and Niall as well; they are just better at handling the crippling waves of pain that come with every reminder that they’ve lost one of their own. 

With a sigh, Louis throws the cover off himself. Instead of the scent he’s become so addicted to, the smell of bacon and eggs infiltrates his senses. Once his eyes adjust to the light, he sees Liam already by the door, giving him the biggest smile he can possibly manage to muster during times like these. Louis is aware he looks like shit. He hasn’t showered in God knows how long, hasn’t bothered to brush his hair or wash up since the funeral. His typical scruff is bordering a full beard, but Louis can’t bring himself to care. Nothing much matters to him anymore, let alone his personal hygiene. 

“That’s a lad,” Liam whispers as Louis stumbles toward the door.

_“Liam says ‘lads’ a lot… I like it; it makes me feel like I’m in a proper group, just one of the lads!”_

_“You’re ridiculous.”_

Louis remembers the only response he was given to that was a childish tongue stuck out in his face. He’d give up everything to see it again. As the two make their way toward Louis’ kitchen, the sheer abundance of alcohol bottles littering his home gives him a start. Liam, bless him, ignores it all, just quietly walking alongside the older boy. Louis, though, can’t miss it no matter how hard he tries. He’s always been aware he’s developed a bit of a drinking problem in the last few weeks, on top of his already existing drinking problems, but he didn’t realize it was to this extent. He could probably build a fortress with the assortment of cans and bottles strewn across every surface of his home, _their home_ , from the wooden floors to the little antique tables lining the hallway. 

“I’m trying for a Smirnoff sponsorship,” he attempts to joke, but it falls flat, both of them aware of the new trauma that came along with the signature red Smirnoff bottle cap. 

Liam offers him a weak smile in response, nervously leading the way toward the kitchen. Before they enter, he stops, placing a hand on Louis’s chest. The older boy raises an eyebrow in questioning, wondering what exactly has Liam so on edge. God knows Louis himself has felt “on edge” enough for a lifetime. Liam closes his eyes, steeling himself with a shaky breath before opening them and trying for an apologetic smile that rivals his previous response to Louis’ poor joke in terms of ingenuity. 

“Don’t get mad--” he begins, but Louis cuts him off with a scoff.

After the last few weeks, he isn’t sure there is much he can’t handle from these two. If Liam and Niall managed to burn down his kitchen in their struggle to prepare somewhat-edible fried eggs, to hell with the kitchen, then. It isn’t like Louis has been cooking his own meals recently, let alone eating at all. Pushing past Liam, he makes his way into the kitchen. On the island sits a spread fit for a king and twenty-four of his best men, meaning a starting course for Niall. The blonde boy himself sits in the seat just across from the entrance, anxiously poking at the bacon on his plate with a fork. 

To his right, someone clears their throat. Louis jumps, stomach-dropping. That was always _his_ seat when they had the privilege of eating in their own home. For a split second, Louis’ foolish desires get the best of him, and he can almost imagine that it was all a bad dream, and _he_ is going to be sitting right there ready to eat the breakfast so graciously fixed by their two other best friends. But alas, once again, the world is not kind to Louis. Instead, in the seat that should have been occupied by a curly head of hair, there is a face he hoped to never again see in his life. Excluding the purple bags below his eyes and his face being the sheer image of exhaustion, no doubt matching Louis’ own, he looks the exact same. 

Zayn Malik is sitting in his kitchen, in _his_ seat, looking far too comfortable for an invader in enemy territory because yes, this home is no longer a safe place for him despite what Louis’ former housemate would always say. 

_“He always has a place here! I don’t care about my fight or your fight or anything that happened with the lot of us! If he called me up at 3 in the bloody morning, high off of his arse and spewing every insult his plastered mind could come up with, asking if he could stay the night or grab a bite because he couldn’t be arsed to eat brekkie the morning before and hadn’t eaten since I’d let him in. Do you think your stupid Twitter fight is gonna change that? Over my_ **dead body __**_.”_

All Louis could think to say in response to his outburst at the time was, “ _You sounded proper English just there. Haven’t heard you say “brekkie” in years._ ”

He wishes he’d gotten at least a laugh in reply, but the other boy clearly wasn’t in the mood for jokes. Louis remembers feeling irritated at the lack of response, wondering why he couldn’t just be _simple_ for once. Things are never going to be simple ever again, and the guilt is gonna be the death of him before the sadness and pain even get the chance. 

“I missed you, mate.”

Louis is dragged out of his thoughts at the sound of the voice he hasn’t heard in months, the one that had once been so familiar and comforting but now leaves him with a bad taste in his mouth, different from the one that’s a result of not brushing his teeth in far too long. No, this is a taste of bitterness, both figurative and literal. Louis turns to Liam before fixing his gaze on Zayn, who can’t even give him the decency of looking him in the eyes. He knows his anger is misplaced; oh, he had been told so by one boy in particular _many_ -a-time, but the feelings of abandonment and the absolute astonishment of seeing him in person for the first time in such a long time cloud his judgment. He is wholly unprepared to deal with the onslaught of emotions that come along with anything Zayn Malik related, so instead, he utters out the first thing his mind can think to say in response to Zayn’s declaration. 

“You have got to be absolutely _fucking_ with me right now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this chapter is so short ):
> 
> it's really just a prologue of sorts to set things up and see if people actually like the story
> 
> please don't hesitate to leave comments with any feedback, i really appreciate it!!! 
> 
> [here's a tumblr post for the fic!](https://japansrry.tumblr.com/post/644768850143068160/when-i-was-your-man-by-japanrry-dear-harry-ive)
> 
> \- juniya <3


	2. two.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _my pride, my ego, my needs, and my selfish ways_

**march 23, 2015**

“I’m sorry, _what?_ ”

After five full minutes of quiet, of course, it would be Louis to break the shocked silence. Five full minutes of four stunned boys unsure of what to say in response to the bombshell that had just been dropped on them. Three weren’t certain if there even _was_ anything to say; two had been expecting it at some point, but the event still didn’t hurt any less, and one was positively fuming. His fists were clenched to his side, jaw tense, red in the face with anger as he began to pace the room, muttering quietly to himself. The other three followed his movements apprehensively, not sure which one would sacrifice themself to the beast and try to calm him down. 

“After discussions with Zayn Malik regarding his break, he has decided it would be the best interest of himself and his health that he no longer be a part of One Direction.” 

When they’d been asked to return to London in between their Manila and Jakarta shows for just one day, the lack of reason had aggravated them all. Not that they didn’t love returning home, but the shows were only two and a half days apart. They’d only just arrived in the UK that morning, jet-lagged and cranky. Never in a million years did they expect _this_ would be the reason why they were called home.

Despite being the one to ask the question, it wasn’t Louis who was about to burst with ire. No, it was Harry who looked as though he was conflicted on whether he should break down in angry cries or commit a crime. The greens of his eyes were accentuated by the unshed tears and the boiling rage that was almost as unexpected as the announcement that no, their bandmate Zayn Malik was, in fact, _not_ just taking a break but was actually quitting the band. This was the behavior that the other three expected from Louis, and yes, that included Louis himself. Other than Harry, Zayn was the person Louis was closest to in the band. Though he couldn’t confidently say that they would have been friends should the circumstances have been different, Zayn offered a welcome escape from the crazy and draining world of being a teen idol, though none of them were really teens, not anymore. It should have been Louis standing, staring at the empty chair usually reserved for their fifth bandmate, looking as though he was contemplating a dozen different methods of causing said chair bodily harm. 

Instead, it was Harry, soft-spoken and loving Harry, who rarely ever got truly mad about anything, let alone something he knew was coming eventually. It was a conversation Louis had with the younger boy often in recent months, though Harry usually preferred to change the subject when Louis brought up his concerns. Sure, Harry and Zayn were close, and contrasting from Louis’ relationship with their former bandmate, he was certain the two would’ve been friends even if they hadn’t been forced into a band with each other at such a younger age. Still, _this_ response from Harry was utterly unprecedented, even for Louis, who would often (wrongly) boast that he knew the former like the back of his hand. This event was the first time he realized maybe he didn’t know Harry as well as he thought he did. 

Harry was still pacing, his mutterings growing louder with every passing minute, or was it seconds? Louis wasn’t sure, much too lost in his thoughts. Niall, Liam, and the dozen or so other people in the room that included a mix of their most regular team members and the two of their poor handlers who had been given the job of breaking the news all glanced at Louis expectantly. Of course, he’d be expected to deal with Harry’s anger-- they still thought things were going just fine in the world of Harry and Louis. Louis thought so too, but apparently, Harry thought differently in the last few weeks. He wasn’t going to tell everyone else that, especially not right then, while Harry looked like he was gonna pop a blood vessel. Sighing, he cautiously made his way over to the boy, but not before sending everyone else in the room a pointed glare, trying to not let their relieved expressions enrage him further. 

“Harry, Haz, Hazza,” Louis said softly, grabbing his shoulders and forcing the taller boy to face him. 

“That _bastard_ ,” Harry snarled, startling Louis so significantly that he dropped his hands and even took a few steps backward. “He fucking said he wouldn’t, said it was just a break, and he wouldn’t screw me over. I should’ve fucking known! I fucking knew from the second he said he needed to just take a little time off that he was gonna fuck me over and leave me to deal all alone. I fucking knew it, Louis!”

Everyone in the room jolted at Harry’s outburst, and Louis was no exception. From her spot in the corner, Lou let out a small gasp. Louis thanked all his lucky stars she had the sense not to bring Lux with her, despite none of them knowing the purpose behind the impromptu meeting called by Gale and Trey, the two Modest! employees who had given the announcement. Lux absolutely adored Harry, and she should never see him in this state. No one should, but what was there to do about that now, Louis thought miserably. He wasn’t sure how to placate the boy ahead of him, who had abandoned his pacing and mumbling to stare at Louis expectantly, waiting for an answer that wouldn’t come. How was he supposed to if he didn’t have a single idea what the fuck Harry was talking about? So, naturally, he let the boy know just as much.

“Harry, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“Of course, you don’t know. I wouldn’t expect you to, always much too busy ignoring what’s right in front of you.”

Behind him, Niall sucked in a breath. The tension in the room reached an all-time high as Louis began to feel himself become much more irritated at Harry’s behavior. Something about that statement caused something in him to snap, and he got up in the taller boy’s face. Though being a couple of inches shorter should’ve made him appear much less menacing, Harry flinched slightly, struggling to regain his threatening demeanor from before. Louis felt sick satisfaction at that. 

“And what exactly is that supposed to mean? You have all these people here waiting, Harry,” Louis gestured to everyone else in the room, who all smartly kept their mouths shut while observing the heated exchange. “Go on, tell them all what you meant by both what you just said and that little Brittany moment you had before.” 

Louis turned back to face the rest of the room, pointedly staring away from Harry and crossing his arms expectantly. Niall caught his eye, shaking his head in warning, but Louis was too far gone. This was the behavior they assumed they’d see of him at the first announcement that Zayn was leaving but had instead gotten from Harry. Well, Louis thought they deserved to attend the show they had anticipated at some point in the day. 

“Stop,” Niall mouthed, looking more concerned for Louis than he was at Harry’s wellbeing because once the older boy got going, he didn’t stop until he had thoroughly dragged you through the mud. 

Before Louis could analyze what Niall’s concern meant, Harry began speaking again. 

“God, Louis! We were going to fucking leave together! We’d been planning for fucking months, and everyone and their mother knew we were over it! Do you not remember the meeting we had six fucking months ago when I asked if we could take a break, and you all voted no, and one other person voted yes? But you, of course, ignored that, only noticing that Zayn voted yes and not the fact that I _called the fucking meeting_. I can’t do this anymore! I love to perform, I love the fans, I love you all, but I can’t do touring 70% of the year, 25% promo, and then barely any time to just take a break! It’s been four years of non-stop; you all overestimate how much I can take!”

By the end of his little speech, it appeared Harry was talking to not just Louis but the rest of the room as well. Their expressions of complete astonishment matched how he was feeling on the inside. Louis was about to ask Harry to calm down, swallow down all of his anger at not having been told how the boy was feeling before this, all up until he caught Niall’s eye once more. Niall Horan was many things, but an actor was not one of them. Anyone could see through the feigned surprise on his face; he knew. Suddenly, any rational thinking was thrown out the window as his ire came back full force, directed toward the two youngest boys in the room. The only thoughts in his head now were Harry was gonna fuck them all over and leave, and Niall knew before Louis did. 

“Oi, you fucking knew, didn’t you?” He seethed, glaring at Niall with the fury of a thousand suns. “You fucking knew this one was gonna fuck us over and skip out, and you just thought not to tell us all, huh?” 

“Boys--” Caroline began quietly, only to be interrupted by Harry’s humorless laugh that had Louis’ blood running cold. 

“I never fucking told a soul, you absolute _idiot_ ,” Harry growled, matching Louis’ previous tone toward Niall. “It was so obvious we were both unhappy, but in true Tommo fashion, you were only focused on what you wanted to see. You didn’t want to think I would ever leave, so you instead chose to ignore all the signs. Niall, God bless him, the most oblivious man to ever live, noticed before you, you who lives with me! Who spends nearly every hour of every day with me!”

Louis wanted to mention that, especially in the last few months, he had not spent nearly every hour of every day with Harry, who had skipped out on any chance of an outing with the boys at any chance he could, but he held his tongue. Not because he wanted to be nice and refrain from using that against Harry, but rather it would boost the other boy’s argument that Louis tended not to notice things he didn’t want to see, which was absolutely _not_ true. 

“I’m not a bloody mind reader, Harry,” Louis hissed. “Contrary to what you might think, the world doesn’t revolve around you, and that most certainly includes _my_ world! I have other things to worry about, including my family and the band you’re so eager to leave, so forgive me if I’m not analyzing your every move. God, you act like the entire world is so bloody in love with you! Newsflash, we _aren’t_ , and once again, that includes me! It is absolutely not a part of my job description as band member Louis Tomlinson to notice every single little thing about fellow band member Harry Styles, so get a fucking grip already!”

As if that statement sucked all the fight out of Harry, the second Louis mentioned that the world isn’t in love with Harry, the boy looked as though he would collapse on the spot. He shrunk into himself, eyes filling so quickly that Louis blinked, and suddenly tears were streaming down the face he’d come to love so much during the last four years. Louis’ statement, which was categorically untrue but he was so fired up he chose to ignore that, meant to play on the insecurities Harry had shared with him so often in their time together. He’d succeeded, but the satisfaction he had felt before when Harry had cowered beneath him was replaced with a sick feeling of guilt he couldn’t shake. He made Harry, six-foot-tall Harry who easily towered over everyone he had ever met, look so small and broken, just through his words. 

“Enough!” Lou shouted, finally rising from her seat and shoving Louis away from Harry. 

He couldn’t even bring it upon himself to be mad as he stumbled as a result of the push, watching helplessly as Lou dragged Harry out of the room. The second the door slammed shut, they all heard the boy dissolve into breathless sobs, growing quieter as Lou led him further and further from the conference room. Caroline and Josh both shot Louis a dirty look before exiting the room, followed by the rest of the group until it was just him, Niall, and Liam. 

“I didn’t…” he began but wasn’t sure what to say that could alleviate the damage he’d already done.

He didn’t _what?_ All three of them knew Louis was fully aware of what he was saying and why he said it, as well. For all his absurd fashion ventures and aura of confidence, Harry Styles was quite possibly the most insecure person Louis had ever met in his life. It wasn’t rare that Harry would crawl into Louis’ bed at night, little sobs escaping his trembling lips. In fact, it happened so often that Louis’ bed suddenly became Harry and Louis’ bed, and one nightly routine was quietly shushing the younger boy, reminding him that the opinions of some random grown men on Twitter meant nothing. 

“Your hair is lovely, your shirts and hats and tattoos and face and everything about you is absolutely lovely, no matter what,” he would grab the phone Harry had in his hand, reading over another particularly vile comment about Harry’s sexuality. “Emmet291749 has to say. Plus, even if you were gay, it’s not like he would ever have a chance with the sexiest long-haired, fedora-wearing, floral-pattered shirt model bandmember the world has ever seen.”

Harry would smile weakly, squeezing his arm in thanks, and they would fall asleep cuddled just like that. 

Louis was a terrible person, and Niall let him know as much. 

“You’re horrible, you know that?” 

Niall was clearly irritated, but his words lacked any heat, just exasperation. Liam, who had been fairly silent up until then, looked conflicted. Liam offered the rationality that Louis often lacked, and despite their previous relationship woes, the two complimented each other quite well once they’d grown up a bit. Louis could tell the boy wasn’t sure whether to condemn Louis for his words or comfort him, as Harry wasn’t necessarily in the right either. He knew better than all of them Zayn’s struggles with anxiety and was the first to tell off the other boys should they ever complain about Zayn’s flaky nature. 

“You just don’t understand it,” Harry would reprimand them softly. “Just let it be, alright?”

“I know,” Louis sighed miserably in response to Niall. 

“Let’s all just relax a bit, head home until we’re all more fit to discuss our plans moving on, alright? You lot can come over mine, and I’ll text Lou to drop Harry off later. We can grab a bite to eat on the way, put in a DVD, whatever we need to just… settle a bit.”

Leave it to Liam to be the voice of reason during times of crisis. Louis and Niall both nodded silently, and the three made their way to Liam’s flat with not a single word uttered between the trio the entire ride. 

***

It was 6pm, nearly four hours since Lou had dropped Harry off at Liam’s, when Louis heard the phone call. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, honest, just wanted to check in on Harry and apologize about what had happened. This was his housemate, but more importantly, bestest friend in the entire world, and he couldn’t believe the way he’d acted the things he’d said. As he neared the guest room that Harry quietly excused himself to about an hour before, Louis heard voices that only grew louder the closer he got. Once he was just outside the door, he was about to knock, but his fist froze mid-way when he heard who exactly Harry was talking to. 

“--Zayn, I am _so_ sorry, I swear I didn’t mean any of it.”

“Haz, are you apologizing for something I didn’t even know you did?” the voice of Zayn asked tiredly, muffled by both the closed door and the phone connection. 

Louis could almost _hear_ the blush he just knew was blooming on Harry’s face. It was such a Harry thing to do, apologize for something even though the other person had no idea he did it. Louis remembered when they’d first moved in, and Harry had accidentally spilled something on a t-shirt Louis hadn’t worn since he was probably fifteen. While he could’ve just tossed out the shirt, and Louis would never notice, Harry had confessed to everything the minute Louis got home.

“It just felt like the right thing to do,” he squeaked out. 

“Well, I appreciate it,” Zayn said with a chuckle before his voice grew serious once more. “I’m not going to apologize for leaving, though. I love you boys, you know I do, but this was for the sake of myself. I can’t handle this shit anymore.”

“I don’t expect you to; I understand completely,” Harry hurriedly reassured him.

“I know you do. I hope the others will too. I’ll text them eventually. I’m just not really ready…” 

Louis couldn’t hold back a snort at the statement. Of course, Zayn would have trouble having a simple conversation with the people he traveled the world with for nearly five years. _He has anxiety_ , Louis reminds himself, for once trying to be reasonable. Yeah, he’d experienced nerves here and there, but he could never compare it to Zayn’s experience. He needed to be rational.

“Hello?” Harry called out, voice growing louder as he neared the door. “Sorry, Zayn, thought I heard something.”

Eyes widening, Louis sprinted back toward the living room where Niall and Liam were having a heated debate about something Marvel-DC related he couldn’t be arsed to care about at the moment. He heard as the door down the hall creaked open, saw the long head of hair poke out from the small crack. Louis caught his eye, and the younger boy’s expression wavered. Harry looked as though he was attempting to muster up a look of disdain, but it failed, instead showing that of pure, unadulterated _sadness_. 

Louis felt like complete shit. 

***

**may 6, 2015**

It was safe to say Louis’ attempts at positive interactions with Zayn Malik following his departure from One Direction were an absolute bust. 

“‘ _Always have struggled to bite my tongue_ ’ well, isn’t that the truth,” Liam scoffed, scrolling through the Twitter exchange on his phone.

“No, no, that was from the fight back in March,” Niall corrected, scrolling to the correct place for the more recent row between Louis and the Worst-Person-On-The-Planet.

Louis groaned, placing his head in his hands and hoping it would make the last couple of hours disappear from existence. He hadn’t intentionally gone on Twitter to start a fight with Zayn, far from it. It was just that goddamn producer, _Naughty Boy_ , what a stupid fucking name. Louis knew he couldn’t sing, that his vocal talent, if it could even be called that, was limited to carrying the background vocals of choruses. These were things he knew, but hearing it from someone he disliked so severely had set something off within him. It was as though all logical thinking was hurled out the window, and Louis’s brain was officially being governed by absolute rage.

“Man,” Liam whistled, clearly having reached Zayn’s input in the exchange. “I can honestly say I didn’t expect this.”

“Thanks for that stunning commentary, Payno,” Louis grumbled, draping his legs over the silent boy across from him. “Anything to say, Harold? You’ve been unusually silent.”

That wasn’t entirely true; ever since that fateful day in March, Harry had preferred to observe the conversation rather than participate when he opted to actually spend time with his remaining bandmates. In fact, in the last _year,_ Harry hasn’t quite been himself around the rest of the lads. After what he’d said during his outburst, Louis questioned whether the idea of Harry he had in his mind even was the true Harry. Maybe this quietness was actually him being himself. Louis would never know. Nonetheless, the silence wasn’t unusual. 

Harry simply shrugged, “Not much to say. Just seemed like a Year 8 girls courtyard fight.”

Niall cackled at that, bringing a small smile just shy of dimple-level out of the boy. Louis felt his tummy flutter at the sight that had become so rare recently. Harry’s smile was a gift to humankind, he was sure of it.

“Oi, I am not a Year 8 girl!” Louis countered, his whine identical to that of a 13-year-old girl, which significantly weakened his argument. 

Now, the dimples really did pop out as Harry chuckled, shaking his head. Louis couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of him as well. Harry just had that effect on him; if serotonin was a person, Louis was 150% that Harry Styles was that person, had been since they first met all those years at the X-Factor. His laugh lit up the entire room, a smile brighter than the sun itself, beautiful eyes so filled with love and adoration for the world. Or at least, Louis thought so the last time he looked Harry in the eyes. When was the last time, exactly? 

“Whatever you say, Tommo.”

“Bugger off, Payno!”

Niall turned to Harry, “We got nicknames for each other, right?”

“Of course, Nialler.”

Out of nowhere, Niall threw Louis’ legs off of Harry, jumping on the younger boy and peppering him with kisses, pointedly ignoring Louis’s affronted “Hey!” at the sudden movement. The older boy still smiled at the scene ahead of him fondly. Harry’s laughter, a sound heard so few and far between recently, bounced off the walls of Liam’s flat as Niall moved on from kisses to unrelenting tickling that had Harry gasping for breath. Louis found himself gasping for breath, too, thinking _He is so absolutely gorgeous_.

_Wait, what?_

“Louis, mate, you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Liam asked, interrupting his thoughts.

He realized the movement around him had stilled, and all three boys were watching him with varying degrees of concern in their expressions. _No, I just thought about how gorgeous my best mate is_ he wanted to scream but swallowed it down. After the disaster of a virtual reunion he’d had earlier with Zayn, Louis wasn’t sure he could have any more deep conversations, even with just himself. Pushing the thought from the forefront of his mind, he assembled the most convincing grin he could contrive, flinging a pillow at Liam’s face. 

“Just forgot to breathe for a second, Niall’s arse stuffed in my face just taking my breath away.”

Thoroughly convinced, Liam just chuckled while Niall let out a signature bout of uncontrollable laughter, nearly collapsing onto Louis’ face as he scrambled off of Harry. Harry, who was staring at Louis with an eyebrow raised, silently asking, _Are you really okay?_ because despite the horrible things Louis had said to him just over a month ago, he would never sit idly by while someone he loved was upset. Hoping to placate him, Louis sent him a thumbs up, their universal symbol, which successfully coaxed a smile from the younger boy. 

For the rest of the evening, Louis watched Harry’s every move, unsure what to make of his earlier thoughts. Too exhausted to try and sort them out, he elected to just stare, studying Harry’s face like a work of art in a museum, which, really, is what it should’ve been. The regal slope of his nose, the god-like angle of his sharp jawline, the creases between his eyebrows when he was confused or focused. Everything was just _Harry Harry Harry Harry_ , completely overwhelming him. Louis was drowning in it.

“I need a drink!” he announced, pointedly avoiding Harry’s eyes. 

And so he got absolutely smashed, so far gone that Harry had to practically drag him into their flat that evening, or early morning rather, when they returned from Liam’s. Barely functional, Louis tried his best to carry at least some of his weight, but his efforts were for naught.

“You are never drinking again,” Harry grunted as he tucked Louis into bed.

It was the same thing he said every time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the first real chapter! reminder that comments + feedback are always appreciated!!!!
> 
> [here's a tumblr post for the fic!](https://japansrry.tumblr.com/post/644768850143068160/when-i-was-your-man-by-japanrry-dear-harry-ive)
> 
> i hope you all enjoyed!
> 
> \- juniya <3


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